


More Than Meets the Eye

by Sonzaishinai



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Identity Porn, Light Angst, M/M, Superman has a crush on Bruce Wayne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonzaishinai/pseuds/Sonzaishinai
Summary: Tomorrow's newspapers will be headlined by a soft, endearing moment between Bruce Wayne and Superman.In which Superman discovers more evidence that Bruce Wayne is more than meets the eye.





	More Than Meets the Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Vent writing cuz I got three essays to write for congressional debate that I need done by Thursday and a track meet the wednesday before and another one the friday after and my midterms essay process start this coming week. kill me pls

“Hand over the fucking toy, Wayne!”

 

“It’s got nothing to do with toyman’s schemes, Commish!”

 

The graying man snarled at the billionaire, looking rabid in his uniform with mussed hair and face, flushed with frustration. “I don’t GIVE A FUCK!! That thing was in the area, who fucking knows what might have been done to it!! Now one more time, Wayne, hand over the fucking toy!”

 

For far too long, he’s been having to deal with Wayne’s ridiculous antics, god bless his heart.

 

His men were gathering around Bruce who softly but firmly held a polished train to his chest with both arms. Under the beaming lights that lit up Wayne Manor and the fluctuating crimson and regal blue of the sirens, the golden edges glinted, enrapturing everyone about. Though seemingly old, a replica of a steam engine train, the red coating that starkly contrasted the luscious green had yet to begin peeling.

 

The entirety of the beauty was in pristine condition.

 

Such a shame it had to be brought in and dissected because of another villainous scheme.

 

The men closed in and Bruce tensed, incapable of fighting back should he be seized but reluctant to let go of the beautiful replica.

 

Then, a voice rung out. “What’s going on over here?”

 

From above the happening, Clark descended calmly, recovered, now, from his battle with the mechanized robot. Peering down, he glimpsed the frazzled Wayne and nearly paused with hesitation.

 

The skin of the playboy’s face was pale, as if drawn of its blood, but what bothered Clark the most was his eyes. Wayne’s eyes screamed of a fear that has never been directed at him before, and they screamed of a single plea.

 

“Please don’t take it away from me, I swear to god, it hasn’t been tampered with, I bet my fortune on it.” The words matching his eyes tumbled off his tongue and drew the nearby journalists that had been attending the gala closer to the gathering, Superman an especially bright piece of interest.

 

A heavy silence then took its place, Clark looking down contemplatively at the billionaire. In front of him, commissioner Gordon continued to glance back and forth between the two, awaiting a decision whilst his men looked about each other nervously.

 

A thought came to Clark’s head. “Why are you so insistent on keeping a toy train of all things, Mr. Wayne? Most especially an old one?”   
  


Apparently that was the wrong question because Wayne began shutting down on him, shoulders and arms tense, his heart rate beginning to skyrocket and eyes narrowing, the black on blue shrinking down to pinpricks. His breathing stuttered and his lips pursed almost imperceptibly and for a second, Clark thought he almost saw those eyes glisten with a hint of tears.

  
If he wanted anything out of Wayne, he had to take him back, and fast.

 

“Okay, nevermind, don’t answer that question if you don’t want to,” Clark sighed as did Wayne, relax, though only slightly. “I have x-ray vision. Do you mind me checking over the toy just to make sure it’s safe, Mr. Wayne?”   
  


For an even longer moment of silence, Wayne stood still, reluctant to respond.

 

And then he stepped forward with the toy in hand, outstretched and to be taken by Superman with trust and a slight glint of anxiety on his face. Clark hadn’t meant for him to hand it over whilst he x-rayed it, simply give him permission to do so. Somehow, this act made it seem more personally intimate than it initially had- like an invasion of privacy somehow.

 

Gently, with hands that could topple buildings and devastate sanctuaries, Clark took the toy train in hand and used his x-ray vision on it, catching nothing out of the ordinary in its innerworkings. Just the everyday gears and mechanical parts that’d allow the toy to spin its wheels and a cute little device that would sound the whistle of the train. Its cage, moreover, was untampered with, the edges ground together with minute detail that told of decades of being untouched.

 

On the bottom, his eyes caught an engraving, though. An engraving so obscure he might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking out for anything that wasn’t of the ordinary.

 

_ December 25th, 19XX _

_ To Bruce Wayne _

_ From Mom & Dad _

_ “Merry Christmas, Bruce! _

_ We love you!” _

 

Clark’s heart caught in his throat and it took all his willpower not to let his eyes tear up. Immediately, he stepped forth, handing back Bruce the train and standing between him and the Commissioner. “It’s an all clear from me, Commissioner. I’ve been dealing with Toyman for many years now and I know his devices. This one hasn’t been tampered with.”

 

Behind him, Wayne was peering out from behind his shoulder, neither man anymore aware or caring of the flashing cameras as they were of the insects that lived beneath the soil. Clark heard a sigh of relief from him, though, and that’s all that was needed for him to call today a success.

 

Grumbling, the GCPD officers dispersed, mingling with the Metropolis officers who came to take Toyman away. Amidst the chatter, Wayne and Superman continued to watch them make their way out, eyes trained on the police cars whilst they departed.

 

With the officers gone, Clark turned to Wayne, but before he could get a word out, Wayne spoke.

 

“It was their last ever gift to me,” he said, voice trembling at an almost undetectable degree. “I-...” His gaze peered down towards their feet, at his polished loafers and Clark’s red boots, eyes welling with tears.

 

Clark pulled him into a hug and he felt Wayne yelp against his chest in surprise. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say more if you don’t want to.” Letting him go was like extinguishing a fire on the night of a blizzard. He wanted more of that sweet warmth.

 

“Thank you. Until next time, Superman.” Clark smiled warmly in response, getting ready to take off before the already raving reporters who’d spectated the intimate act. 

 

“No problem, M-”

 

And then his mouth was being covered by soft, gentle lips in a quick, chaste kiss. Before he knew it, Wayne had fled back into his home, train in his hands and smile on his face while Clark continued to stand shock still, ambushed by a variety of reporters wanting a comment on all this, surely a picture of the kiss amongst one of their cameras.

 

Bruce chuckled, once he’d made his way into the manor. Clark had no issue proclaiming his crush on Brucie Wayne the night of monitor duty before, well, Bruce might return the favor. He wasn’t gonna let go of such an opportunity after years of pining, after all.

 

Still, his cheeks heated with the memory of the kiss. He clutched the train just the slightest bit tighter, the assault of warm memories throwing him into a nostalgic spiral.

 

“I assume we’ll be expecting Superman over as a guest in sooner days, Master Wayne?” 

 

Bruce huffed. “Not without two hours worth of ranting at the Watchtower first, Alfred. I’d get to making him an apple pie as a gift, but you won’t let me within ten feet of the kitchen no matter what.”

 

The English butler smiled. It’s been a while since his master had a stable romantic interest. “I’ll get to it myself, Master Wayne. God forbid you ever approach the kitchen.”

 

The night was still young and Bruce let out a guffaw as he made his way upstairs to return the train to its rightful place.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it this far  
> the insp for this fic was a comic panel I read a long ass time ago where Bruce finds an old toy train that was the last gift he'd gotten from his parents and he's like "The last gift they ever gave me and I almost lost it for good" or smthn  
> Idk, i forgot, but it was really sad  
> anyways hope u enjoyed


End file.
